The Little Engine That Could Not…

I used to think I had to be the little engine that could until I realized one day that I could not. I could not keep on with this pattern of living that required me to give without regard for my own wellbeing. Most of us are familiar with Jesus' teaching on "turn the other cheek." As a Christian, I figured this was an important teaching - after all, it shows up more than once in the gospels. It really does SOUND like we are supposed to set ourselves up to be human punching bags in these passages. And, my family system of origin, while completely irreligious in my early formative years, taught me the same thing. I lapped this stuff up like it was melting ice cream on a hot summer's day.

Why? Because if JESUS said turn the other cheek, then maybe I did not need to question the way in which I was parented. I could ignore the unhealthy aspects of my family and focus my attention on doing what I was raised to do - give.

I am not going to try to exegete such an important passage of scripture in a blog. But here's what I'm learning. The world is a violent place and people are not particularly nice. When under duress, they probably are never going to see someone else's position from a place of compassion and empathy. That's a given. It's not personal, it is a reflection of who they are not what you have or have not done.

However, the effect of this violence is devastating. And it is violence. Anytime we are not living in such a way as to communicate positive regard for others and deep respect, it is an assault on each individual's capacity for virtue.

Turning the other cheek, for all that it means and does not mean, may point us in a certain direction for understanding. We need to learn that the world is a violent place and how to handle these constant assaults on our souls. The answer is rarely going to be found within the context of the relationship of anyone who is willing to strike you on your cheek in the first place. Depending on the relationship, it may need to be addressed.

But other times, it simply needs to be acknowledged. That person was violent toward me. I need to turn and walk in a different direction. This does not preclude a relationship but it changes the nature of the relationship in profound ways.

And hear me on this...you do not have to keep giving to that relationship. You can step back. You can give someone else a turn to give to them.

What relationships are you in that are not nurturing? Step back. Re-evaluate. Consider other options. Sometimes we need help sorting all this out. That's ok. Just know that there is something there that needs sorting, and if you do not do so, your body will let you know.

On The Verge…

The last couple of weeks have been short takes on how we influence one another - for good or...not. I am a lucky duck in that I am surrounded by influencers who are lovely supporters. But sometimes - even with the best support in the world - we find ourselves emotionally exhausted, depleted of our capacity to show compassion and with a relentless, nagging feeling that nothing we do will ever make any difference.

This happened to me. In hindsight, it all makes perfect sense. First, my mother died. That would be difficult enough but the circumstances surrounding her death knocked me flat. I responded as I do; I came home from the funeral and tried harder. But, what I could not ignore was that everything I had done to keep our family together as a unit and to avoid the possibility of our dysfunction splitting us apart was futile. As a young girl I made two vows:

1. I would never want my family of origin to be broken apart by dissension and jealousy (as I had seen played out in previous generations.)

2. I wanted to create a family when I grew up that was a few steps removed from pathological.

Is this too much to ask? It turns out, it was. Of course you, dear reader, see the problem. I am but one human in a family system comprised of many humans. I was doomed to fail. To be clear, I think I managed to not birth any serial killers - my kids are awesome! But families are all complicated in their own way.

The second thing that occurred, was this blasted pandemic, right smack in the middle of a cultural revolution. If you don't know this, maybe I could give you some context. It has been extremely difficult to be a pastor during a pandemic and political upheaval. If you are not a pastor, I suspect this won't mean much and I will not bore you with the heart wrenching angst of it all. But it was - and is - pretty unbearable in some ways.

Maybe I could have kept paddling my boat if I faced either one of these events, but two of them? I did not have a chance. Self-care, therapy, super influencers, a family this is loving and not pathological? These things probably kept me out of in-patient treatment, but just barely.

But I learned a ton along the way, and I want to explore that for awhile with you. Stay tuned.

Sticking Together

Blessed is the servant who loves his brother as much when he is sick and useless as when he is well and can be of service to him. And blessed is he who loves his brother as well when he is afar off as when he is by his side, and who would say nothing behind his back he might not, in love, say before his face.

Francis of Assisi

Families are complicated. I’ve never known one that didn’t have at least a hint of sibling rivalry with a sprinkling of uneasy and often shifting sibling alliances. When my own family of origin broke apart almost four years ago, one of the things that my dad reportedly complained about was how close my brother and I were. “Those two. They always stick together.” He said, I assume, with disgust.

Sticking together is not something that can be assumed with siblings. I remember as a child how shocked I was that my own parents did not see their siblings as often and regularly as I thought would be normal. Our siblings are our first playmates and allies, competition, partners in crimes and misdemeanors and fellow witnesses to the same life experiences (if not the same opinions about them).

Yesterday I talked about sharing a tennis court with two brothers who spent their entire match affirming, complimenting, and praising one another. They were decent players but they were outstanding brothers. If I see them again, I swear to you, I am going to ask them the secret to their familial success because, I suspect, that if all of us had that kind of support hope would be an abundant resource.

Imagine a world populated by people with a stubborn commitment to stick together. I know there would be exceptions that were necessary and even required for health reasons. But I still wonder, as I did as a child, why we all aren’t taking better care of one another.

Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.

Ecclesiastes 4:12 NIV